


The Oatmeal Supremacy

by Sue Corkill (mscorkill)



Series: Fruit Basket Upset [5]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-18
Updated: 2012-05-18
Packaged: 2017-11-05 13:33:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/407015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mscorkill/pseuds/Sue%20Corkill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everywhere Jack looks, all he sees is oatmeal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Oatmeal Supremacy

**Author's Note:**

> The last one in The Fruit Basket Upset series. Enjoy! And yeah, I know it doesn't have fruit in the title. ;-P 
> 
> Originally posted November 2004.

THE OATMEAL SUPREMACY

Jack O'Neill was late. Fifteen minutes late, to be precise. The members of SG-1 had discovered long ago that the key to eating breakfast in the dining hall on base was to arrive at 0645, not a minute before or a minute after. The morning rush had yet to start, the food was piping hot and there would still be plenty of fresh fruit—for Teal'c and Jonas—and ample strawberry yogurt, a must for his 2IC. 

But this past week, Jack almost dreaded going into the dining hall. Even the prospect of seeing Sam, after a long and lonely night spent by himself in his way too big bed, couldn't overcome his paranoia. He really needed to convince her to move in with him, because he was damn tired of the nights she worked late and then went to her house so she wouldn't 'bother' him. But then, her reticence was probably all part of a bigger conspiracy, a conspiracy that ran from the highest to the lowest levels in the SGC. 'They' were all in on it and it was all designed to drive him crazy. 

Peering around the doorframe, Jack saw that there was already a long line. Sighing, he fell in place behind two airmen, picked up a tray and shuffled slowly along. Bowls of tempting fruit remained untouched, boxes of cold cereal gathered dust, even the fry cook looked glum, the warming pans containing scrambled eggs, bacon and sausage barely disturbed. The trays of biscuits and toast looked abandoned and forlorn. 

"Stan." O'Neill nodded to the cook.

"Can I get you something, sir?" Stan brightened up a bit, an almost smile on his homely face.

Jack looked at the line of people in front of him, all of them practically drooling as they patiently waited their turn, and he made a sudden decision.

"The works, Stan."

A huge grin split Stan's face and he began filling a plate with scrambled eggs, bacon and sausage. "Biscuits or toast?"

It didn't really matter to Jack, but Stan looked so pathetically eager, he couldn't turn him down. "Biscuits, I guess," he responded, his eyes once more drifting down the long line in front of him.

"Can't seem to get enough of it," Stan commented. He gestured toward the waiting diners with his gravy ladle before dumping the contents over the biscuits. "They really like all that fancy stuff." 

He said 'fancy' with a sneer that almost made Jack smile. "Seems so," he replied.

Stan handed him the plate heaped with food. "I thought you liked oatmeal?"

Jack took the proffered plate, gravy dripping onto his fingers. "I do, Stan. I do," he sighed. Veering out of the slowly moving line, Jack made his way over to the corner table where the rest of his team was already eagerly eating.

There was a shuffling of trays; three sets of eyes surveyed him—and the contents of his tray.

"O'Neill."

"Good morning, Colonel."

"Morning, sir."

O'Neill merely grunted, setting his tray down and plopping down into the chair. He grabbed the second cup of coffee off Sam's tray and took a long swallow. 

Teal'c paused, a spoonful of oatmeal inches from his mouth. "You are late, O'Neill." And then he shoved the whole spoonful into his mouth, swallowing (it seemed) almost immediately. Jack grimaced—did he even taste the stuff?

"Yeah, well," Jack glared at Carter. "My alarm didn't go off."

She smiled calmly and stirred her bowl of oatmeal, mixing in what looked like brown sugar and raisins.

"Maybe you should set two alarm clocks." Jonas paused, knife in one hand and a half-sliced banana in the other. Jack watched as he sliced off the rest of the banana, the yellow disks dropping into a steaming bowl of oatmeal. Jack ignored him, which didn't seem to bother the Kelownan at all; he merely grinned and picked up his spoon, digging into his oatmeal.

"I thought you liked oatmeal, sir."

Jack made his second mistake of the morning—if actually entering the dining hall could be considered his first—when he looked at Sam. She looked absolutely gorgeous, but then she always did to him. Her blue eyes were sparkling; her cheeks pink and her lips a luscious red. Jack couldn't take his eyes off her when she slowly raised her spoon, her mouth opening, the tip of her tongue just visible behind her pearly white teeth. The oatmeal seemed to slide effortlessly into her mouth, her lips closing delicately around the spoon in what almost seemed like a caress. 

He belatedly realized he was staring and about to start drooling when she slowly smiled and licked her lips. His eyes flew to hers. Those baby blues were still sparkling and with a look of utter innocence, she winked at him. Fuck! Jack could feel the flush rising on his face and blood rushing to certain other parts of his anatomy. He was suddenly looking everywhere except at Sam...and her oatmeal. Jack glanced uneasily at Teal'c and Jonas who—thank god—were still absorbed in their oatmeal. 

"Uh, yeah, well, I used to..." he somehow managed to stutter out. Picking up his fork, he concentrated on his eggs, wondering how she and a bowl of oatmeal had managed to reduce him to a blithering idiot who couldn’t even answer a simple question. 

He heard her soft laugh and vainly tried to ignore the slight nudge of her booted foot against his. She would so pay for this, once they were alone. He was the one who was supposed to be seducing her with oatmeal, not the other way around! But then she—and the entire SGC—had the advantage. How was he to know they'd get a new chef who'd put in an oatmeal breakfast bar, of all things! And who knew that the entire SGC would go crazy over oatmeal? Oatmeal with raisins, oatmeal with dried cranberries, oatmeal with fresh strawberries, oatmeal with four different types of sugar. There were even chocolate chips for the oatmeal, for crying out loud! 

His favorite hot breakfast cereal was trendy, no longer considered a plain and dull offering, it was now something to be dressed up and shown off. How was he supposed to plan Sam's oatmeal seduction now that everybody ate it? It was a paradox, he knew, that even though the glammed up oatmeal looked and tasted better than ever, its very popularity turned him off. When it was just him and his oatmeal, it was unique...special, it was him. Now it was just another flashy breakfast cereal amongst dozens of other flashy breakfast cereals. Shit, tomorrow he wouldn't be surprised if little colored marshmallows were added to the line up to make it 'magically delicious'. 

"See you guys at the briefing." 

There was a shuffling of chairs and Jack finally looked up, a sausage in hand, to find Sam standing with her tray in her hands. She smiled serenely, looking for all the world like a queen bestowing her subjects with some special favor. Jonas was grinning like an idiot and even Teal'c looked remarkably mellow. Jack glared at her back; her low chuckle drifted back to their table and Jack knew she was laughing at him. 

"Your breakfast did not agree with you, O'Neill?"

Jack looked down at his now empty plate and then back at Teal'c, whose expression remained as placid as ever. Jack had the uneasy feeling that Teal'c had just made a joke at his expense, and when Jonas coughed and smothered a grin behind his napkin, he knew it. Pushing back his chair, he picked up his tray. "'Something' didn't agree with me," he muttered and with a final glare, stalked out of the dining hall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack tapped his pencil on the briefing room table. The tapping didn't keep him occupied for long, so he started doodling on his legal pad, idly sketching the X-303. Where the hell was his team? Usually he was the one who was late. He had just started on the second wing of the hybrid fighter when he heard them.

"I'm telling you, the benefits outweigh the calories." Jonas entered the room first, a stack of folders in one arm, the other hand gesturing wildly.

"I believe you," Sam commented, following him in, "but you still need to have a well-balanced diet."

"I believe Major Carter is referring to the food pyramid, Jonas Quinn." Teal'c brought up the rear of the small group. 

"Exactly!" Jonas plopped his pile of folders down on the table across from where Jack sat. "That is my point exactly Teal'c." He fidgeted for a moment with the laptop and projector set up at the back of the room before returning to the table—and the previous conversation. "And what's at the base of that pyramid?"

Sam took her usual seat to his right, Teal'c sat down across from her and Jonas still stood behind his chair, evidently waiting for an answer. Jack looked at the serious faces of his team, you'd think they were discussing a Goa'uld pyramid instead of a food pyramid.

"The grain group?" Sam finally ventured. She didn't sound all that confident and Jack looked at her, raising an eyebrow. She shrugged and turned her gaze back to Jonas.

"Exactly! The bread, cereal, rice and pasta group! Five to eleven servings per day." Jonas sat down then, a look of triumph on his face and opened up one of his countless portfolios. "Here." He tossed a brightly colored foil wrapped package at each of them. "All the nutrition of a bowl of oatmeal in a convenient and tasty square."

 _This couldn't be happening,_ Jack thought, _not right before a briefing._ Hammond would be walking through his office door any minute, Jonas sounded like a TV commercial and had just passed out..."Granola bars?" Jack didn't even bother to hide his disbelief.

"No, not granola bars," Jonas replied earnestly. "Oatmeal squares."

"Ah, of course." Jack ignored the foil packet in front of him and watched in almost morbid fascination while his team opened their squares. The sound of rustling foil was the only sound for several moments until quiet descended while the trio munched on their treats. 

"Colonel," Jonas gestured with his already half devoured bar. "You're not eating yours."

"Ah...not real hungry right now."

"Consuming oats will improve your cholesterol level," Teal'c commented around a mouthful of oatmeal bar.

"Yeah, well, my cholesterol levels are just fine," Jack grumbled. _Where the hell was Hammond_ , he wondered irritably, once more tapping his pencil against the table. A slim hand rested gently on the back of his rapidly moving hand for a brief moment. Jack looked at its owner; her eyes were gleaming with understanding and affection. He gave her a weak smile and set his pencil down, desperately trying to ignore the tingle that ran all the way to his toes when her fingers brushed lightly against the back of his hand. 

"All right, people. Let's get this briefing started."

Gratitude filled Jack with Hammond's appearance. Maybe now they could get down to business and leave all this talk about oatmeal behind. Everyone else at the table was suddenly all business, wrappers disappearing, folders opening; all their attention focused on the General.

"Mr. Quinn?"

Jonas nodded, looking every bit the professional now and Jack felt a surge of pride in his team. They were a unique group, and while liable to become obsessed with...unusual ideas from time to time, they were all devoted to the SGC—and each other.

"Preliminary contact with PR3-977 is promising. The dominant society is friendly and eager to establish relations with us." Jonas picked up the remote control and activated the projector. An aerial view of what Jack assumed was PR3-977 appeared on the screen. "As you can see, the city and surrounding area is primarily agrarian. SG-7 estimates their societal development to be at the same level as Earth's in the mid-twentieth century, with one significant difference." Jonas paused and looked around the room.

"Go ahead," Hammond prompted.

"They have perfected production of a grain alcohol, similar to what you know as ethanol, which has revolutionized their planet and their economy."

"Explain."

"It's really quite remarkable." Sam took up the explanation. "As far as we can tell, these people never became dependent on fossil fuels. Coal and peat were their major fuel sources, until motivated by increasing air pollution and decreasing supplies, they developed this incredible fuel." 

Sam nodded at Jonas and he pressed the remote, this time a lush, green field of some kind of grain appeared on the screen. "Grain alcohol is produced by fermenting and then distilling the sugars that are the by-product of the fermentation process. Somehow they've taken this a step further and have developed a clean-burning liquid and solid fuel, from a renewable resource."

The image on the screen changed again, this time to group of modern looking buildings and some tall structures that reminded Jack of grain elevators, sitting in the midst of a pastoral scene. "This," Sam gestured toward the screen, "is one of their refineries."

"This is all very interesting, but what's the bottom line for us?" Hammond asked.

Sam and Jonas exchanged a look, with Jonas taking up the explanation. "Both here on Earth and Kelowna, we are dependent on a fuel source that is expensive and rapidly dwindling. If we can negotiate some kind of information exchange, trade agreement or whatever, for this method of fuel production we can help both our worlds." 

"Just think, sirs, what we could do if we didn't have to be dependent on fossil fuels. If we could put all the resources we currently spend on oil and our own limited petroleum resources into grain and this super-ethanol production, it would revolutionize our economy."

"And you think these people—"

"They call themselves Riderians," Jonas offered.

Hammond nodded. "The Riderians will be willing to share their knowledge?"

"SG-7 believes so," Jonas commented. "They've only scratched the surface of microchip technology and are very interested in advancements in that area. "

"What about the Goa'uld?" Hammond and everyone else automatically looked to Teal'c. 

"Since the address of this planet is from the Ancient's database, it appears unlikely that there has ever been a Goa'uld presence on this planet." 

"All right then, people. Your mission is a go."

"Ah, about that General?"

"Yes, Colonel?"

"Are you sure SG-1 should go on this mission?" Jack hurriedly continued when Hammond frowned, "Not that I'm questioning your judgement or anything."

"I realize this isn't SG-1's usual function, but all of our teams are stretched thin, what with the current budget freeze." Hammond stood and Jack knew the discussion was ended. "I'm sure you won't disappoint me, people."

"Yes, sir," he mumbled, ignoring Sam's amused smile. Jonas had a huge grin on his face and even Teal'c looked pleased. Jack sighed and stood as Hammond left the room, he couldn't help but think it was a big mistake that his oatmeal obsessed team was going to a planet whose economy revolved around grain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack sat sprawled on the settee in the crowded lounge, watching the festivities. The treaty negotiation had been an unqualified success; the Riderians were more than willing to share their advancements in grain fuel production for some silicon chips. Jack wasn't quite sure who was getting the better deal here, but he'd leave it up to the Riderians to discover the joy of computers. With the successful conclusion of their mission, the Riderians had insisted on hosting a banquet in their honor. Even though he was eager to get back to Earth, Jack had agreed, not wanting to put a damper on the budding relationship between the two planets.

So, that was how he came to be sitting in a beautifully appointed lounge, in what he was told was the most luxurious hotel in the capital city of Rideria, celebrating the occasion. It was also why he was wearing what seemed to be the official clothing of every Riderian male they'd encountered, loose fitting trousers and a long sleeved tunic made out of a material that reminded him of cashmere. Since this was a festive occasion, the outfit was a dark charcoal gray instead of the usual cream or light browns their hosts had worn at the meetings. 

It was okay as far as dressing like the natives went; at least the trousers were loose enough that he could wear his sidearm and not arouse any suspicion. It wasn't that he distrusted the Riderians, he just had a healthy dislike of being without his weapon on another planet.   
His eyes automatically scanned the crowd, searching out his teammates. He spotted Sam right away, her blonde hair and fair skin sticking out like a spotlight among the darker hair and complexions of their hosts. She was dressed in a similar fashion to the men, as were all the women present. 

The Riderians had an almost androgynous approach to dressing, but he noted with amusement that the women still managed to make a statement with their outfits. While the men were all dressed in varying shades of black and gray, the women wore tunics in differing hues over matching trousers. And Sam looked gorgeous, dressed in what should have been a very plain royal blue tunic and trousers that were anything but that. There were other women dressed in similar shades of blue, but there was something about her blonde hair and pale skin against the vibrant blue that set her apart from the others.

"O'Neill." 

Jack glanced up at Teal'c, who had suddenly appeared out of the crowd. Teal'c was dressed completely in black, and combined with his naturally dark complexion and the gold tattoo, he was an impressive sight. "Looking mighty fine there, T," he commented. Teal'c merely nodded, his eyes also automatically scanning the crowd, Jack noted. 

"Are you armed, O'Neill?"

"Yeah," he nodded slowly. "Why, you expecting trouble?"

"No, but it is always best to be prepared." 

Jack silently agreed, his eyes drifting once more to his beautiful Major, who was talking with one of the lead scientists, whose name he thought was Gilles. In fact, he decided casually, it was a good thing he had his gun as he just might have to shoot the man, who kept inching closer and closer to Sam as he talked. 

"I believe I will go mingle," Teal'c rumbled. 

Mildly surprised at Teal'c's comment, Jack nodded and watched his progress through the crowd. His surprise faded somewhat when the Jaffa joined a small group of people, prominent among them the Minister of Agriculture, an attractive woman of indeterminate age who had shown signs of more than a passing interest in Teal'c. Jonas was also in the group, dressed in the same unrelieved black as Teal'c, and talking animatedly with a young pregnant woman Jack recognized as the Minister's assistant. 

Satisfied that Teal'c and Jonas were safely occupied, Jack turned his attention back to Sam. He watched with growing interest as the Riderian leaned closer to Sam, proceeded to put an arm around her waist and then whispered in her ear. Her smile faded and Jack sat up straighter. But then she murmured something back to him that wiped the lecherous smile off his face, his complexion turning a sickly shade of gray. She smiled sweetly as his arm dropped from her waist and Jack watched him disappear into the crowd. 

Jack raised his glass to her when she looked his direction and she smiled—a real smile this time—and maneuvered through the crowd to where he sat.

"Hey," she murmured, dropping down to sit next to him.

"Hey, yourself," he murmured. "What'd you say to that guy?" He gestured with his glass toward the far side of the room, where the top of the scientist's balding head was just visible. 

"I asked him how his wife was."

"How do you know he's married?"

"Jonas told me."

"Ah then, well that makes perfect sense." It didn’t make any sense to him, but he wasn't going to tell her that.

She chuckled. "The woman Jonas is talking to now?"

Jack glanced around and saw that Jonas was still talking to the Minister of Agriculture's assistant. "Yeah."

"That's Gilles' wife."

"Ah," he murmured, deciding that there were just some things that were better left unexplained. Like how Jonas got his information and why that asshole scientist was hitting on Sam when his wife was so obviously pregnant. 

But...he hadn't been this close to Sam in almost a week, so he decided to take advantage of the unexpected proximity and shifted closer to her, so that their shoulders brushed and his thigh rested against hers. His senses immediately went on high alert, she smelled so good and it had been way too long since he'd touched her. He leaned closer, briefly nuzzling her hair. "You smell good."

"What are you drinking?" she asked, the ever-familiar combination of affection and indulgence in her voice.

"Scotch," he said, holding up his glass that still held the remnants of the amber colored spirit. "Well, they don't call it that here, but it tastes like scotch." He winked at her. "Seems they have this amazing distillery on this planet." 

She chuckled softly and laced her arm through his. "They do, don't they?"

Before he could do more than register the soft press of her breast against his arm, followed by the quick realization she wasn't wearing a bra, the doors to the ballroom opened and the chimes announcing dinner rang melodiously in the room. Jack sighed and stood, handing his glass to a passing waiter. 

Sam got gracefully to her feet and he held out his arm to her. "Shall we?"

Her slow smile almost brought him to his knees and he suddenly wanted to forget about what would more than likely prove to be a long, boring state dinner and drag her back up to their suite of rooms. He was hungry, but nothing they were liable to serve for dinner would be able to satisfy him. 

Teal'c and Jonas fell into step with them as they joined the crowd of people slowly moving into the ballroom. Jack barely noticed them, his attention focused solely on the woman walking to next him, the way she leaned into his side as they walked, the faint scent of her perfume, the brush of her clothing against his as they walked. He needed her and didn't care if they were on a mission, and technically they weren't, he rationalized. The mission was over and this evening was just window-dressing. And by the lazy smile on Sam's face, he didn't think he'd encounter too much resistance from her. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Jack sat down at his place at the head table on the dais and an attentive server immediately appeared and whipped his napkin off his plate and draped it over his lap, he knew it was going to be a long evening. He had sat through more than his fair share of formal military functions and dinners, but he didn't think he'd ever been to any dinner quite as elaborate as this one. There was an amazing array of cutlery at his place setting, plus an enormous amount of crystal.

"What the hell are we going to do with all these forks?" he whispered to Sam. He counted a grand total of four forks, three knives and four spoons. 

She tapped the menu card in front of him. "It looks like we're having a seven course dinner."

"Oy," he muttered. Picking up the card, he looked at it and immediately became confused. "It's in English," he whispered.

"Jonas helped them translate for us."

"Ah." Trust Jonas and the very friendly Riderians to do something that diplomatic. The menu was written in what he recognized as the Riderian script with the English translation underneath. Jack studied the menu while the huge room continued to fill with people. Servers clad in dark tunics with white aprons busily filled one of the three empty crystal goblets at the place settings with what looked like a white wine. 

The menu seemed relatively benign, if the translations were accurate, he thought darkly. Seafood quiche with hollandaise sauce, Borsht, seasonal greens with Balsamic vinaigrette, pineapple sorbet, poached salmon with lemon dill sauce and asparagus, beef medallions with new potatoes and wilted greens, Ambrosia, coffee and tea. 

"Borsht?"

"Cold beet soup."

"I was afraid of that." There was something else on the menu he didn't recognize. "Ambrosia?"

"Not sure what that is, sir."

Jack really hoped it wasn't the mini-marshmallow, coconut and fruit salad his Aunt Mary Pat had always brought to family gatherings when he was a kid. He shuddered; he could go an entire lifetime without having that stuff again. His childhood memories were interrupted when the Riderian Prime Minister, a formidable woman in her early seventies, took the seat to his right, next to the podium. 

"Madame Celeste." Jack stood while one of the servers pulled out her chair and she sat.

"Colonel O'Neill." The server hovering attentively behind them returned his napkin to him when he sat down and then tried to put the Prime Minister's napkin in her lap, but she brushed the hapless fellow away, snatching the napkin from him. "Can't abide these fancy affairs," she rumbled, tucking the napkin on her lap. "But the President likes them, so we all suffer."

"Yes, ma'am," Jack replied solemnly, knowing full well that the President she referred to was her husband.

"Have you ever seen so much silverware for one person before?"

"Ah, no ma'am," he managed, striving to keep a straight face.

"Oh well, we'll just have to make the best of it!" She picked up her wineglass and tossed back the entire contents. A server standing discreetly behind them immediately filled up her glass again.

Jack ignored Sam's low chuckle and took a gulp of his own wine. It was going to be a long evening....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Jack." 

A familiar voice hissed his name, her low voice penetrating his consciousness and that, combined with the sharp kick against his ankle, jerked him upright—and awake. Crap, had he fallen asleep? Wiping what he hoped wasn't drool from the side of his mouth, he saw that—even worse than drooling at a public function—the Exchequer was still droning on. Jack glared at Sam; he was sure she had just woken him so she wouldn't have to suffer alone. He knew for a fact that Madame Celeste was asleep, but she'd somehow mastered the art of sleeping with her eyes open. He envied her that ability.

"I think he's almost done," Sam whispered in his ear. Jack tuned the speaker back in.

The portly man turned to look at the members of SG-1. "And in conclusion, I would once again like to extend our thanks and gratitude to our new friends, the Tau'ri." 

Jack smiled out at the crowd as the applause started; Madame Celeste jerked awake next to him and joined in. When the applause died down, Madame Celeste stood and leaned over to the microphone on the podium. "Bring on the Ambrosia!"

"Amen," Jack muttered. Dessert could only mean one thing—the banquet was almost over and he was closer to achieving his ultimate goal—bedtime with Sam.

Madame Celeste sat back down. "I hope you like our special dessert," she told him. "It is a great honor for it to be served tonight." From the periphery of the room, he heard the sound of dozens of champagne corks popping and the final crystal flute at his place setting was immediately filled with the bubbling gold wine.

"I'm sure it will be delicious," Jack replied, already resigned to choking it down, no matter how awful it was. At least he'd have champagne to wash it down.

A horde of servers descended upon the dining room, serving trays held high. On the dais, individual servers set down a covered plate in front of each person and then in what had to be an elegantly choreographed move, simultaneously lifted the covers, revealing a bowl of.... 

"Oatmeal?" Jack hadn't even realized he had said it out loud until he heard Sam stifle a snicker.

"So, you are familiar with this delicacy?" Madame Celeste asked. "What did you call it?" 

Jack coughed and tried to ignore Sam, who was currently squeezing his knee. "Ah yeah, we have this on Earth. We call it oatmeal."

Madame Celeste was liberally adding brown sugar and cream to hers, from small, individual serving bowls that had appeared on their table. "A practical, if not dull name, for something so delightful."

Jack merely nodded, beyond speech, as was everyone else it seemed. Silence had descended upon the great hall while everyone ate their "ambrosia". He glanced down the table at his team. Both Jonas and Teal'c were shoveling it into their mouths like they just hadn't finished eating enough food to feed a small family. Just like back at the SGC...just like at his house...just like everywhere he went. Jack sighed, just when he thought he was in an oatmeal free zone. 

"Carter?"

Sam stopped stirring her oatmeal and smiled innocently. "Try some, sir?" She held her spoon out towards him, full of oatmeal. There was challenge in her eyes, along with something else he recognized immediately--desire. His eyes narrowed, his thoughts flying back to that last morning in the dining hall before they left on this mission. So she thought she could turn the tables on him, did she? 

Ignoring the other diners, he opened his mouth, accepting the spoonful of the cereal from her. Jack's smug smile disappeared the moment the creamy oatmeal hit his tongue and he was lost. His eyes closed on a rush of incredible flavor and a look of pure pleasure filled his face. What was it that Sam called that chocolate cake at O'Malleys that she liked so much? Orgasmic, he remembered, with a slight chuckle. 

"That good, huh?" Her voice was low and husky and threaded with amusement. 

He opened his eyes and smiled, nearly drowning in the deep blue depths of her eyes. "Oh yeah," he drawled. And then he leaned closer and whispered, "Orgasmic."

"Is that right?" she replied, looking both scandalized and aroused.

Jack picked up his spoon, dipping it into her bowl and scooping out a spoonful of the creamy oatmeal. "Try it," he dared her, holding it up to her.

He felt the jolt all the way to his toes when she slowly licked her lips and then opened her mouth. She leaned toward him, their eyes locked as her lips closed around the spoon. Surprise and pleasure filled her eyes and he could tell by the look of pure delight on her face that she felt the same way. About him or the oatmeal, he couldn't tell and he really didn't care. He smiled in acknowledgement, slowly pulling the spoon away.

"What did I tell you?" Madame Celeste suddenly boomed in his ear, breaking the spell between him and Sam. 

Sam smirked and turned her attention back to her oatmeal. Jack shifted uncomfortably in his chair and finally managed a tight smile for the Prime Minister. "You're right," he said, surrendering to the inevitable and reaching for his oatmeal. "It is ambrosia."

A broad smile split Madame Celeste's face and she clapped her hands, a server immediately appeared at her side. "More Ambrosia for everyone!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The last bowl and spoon had been cleared away, what passed for coffee in Rideria was being served and Jack wondered how soon he and Sam could safely—and discreetly—leave. None of the Riderians seemed in a hurry to leave though; the dining room was still full of cheerful, talking people. 

Placing his hand on Sam's arm, he leaned toward her. "When do you think..." His voice trailed off when there was a sudden commotion off to the left of where they sat. Several of the versatile servers were folding the wall back, Jack hadn't realized until now that it was merely a partition, revealing a dance floor and orchestra.

"It's never going to end, is it?" he murmured in her ear.

The orchestra started tuning up and Sam looked at him with what he hoped was sympathy. He wasn't so sure though, she seemed to be trying hard not to smile. "I'm sure you won't be expected to dance."

"Colonel O'Neill."

Jack closed his eyes, ignoring the now obvious gleam of amusement in Sam's. Steeling himself, he put a bright smile on his face and turned to Madame Celeste. 

"Will you do me the honor?" Her dark eyes sparkled and Jack could tell she was enjoying his discomfort.

"Of course," he answered gamely. What else could he say? Standing up, he offered her his arm.

The orchestra played softly while he escorted her off the dais and over to the dance floor. He could feel the eyes of everyone in the ballroom on them as he gingerly took Madame Celeste into his arms. Thank god the orchestra started playing a waltz; he thought he could manage that without embarrassing himself too much. Jack began moving carefully across the floor to the familiar one-two-three beat, his partner moving gracefully with him and they fell into a smooth pattern, whirling sedately around the dance floor.

"At least look like you're enjoying yourself, Colonel."

Jack looked up from his feet into the teasing eyes of his partner. He gave her a crooked smile and tried to relax.

"Don't worry," she nodded toward the banquet room when he swung her around. "We won't be alone for long."

Turning, Jack grinned when he saw the President leading Sam out onto the dance floor. She looked exquisite; smiling and laughing as the older gentleman moved her expertly around the dance floor. He couldn't keep his eyes off her, the loose pants of her tunic swirled around her almost like a dress and Jack found he was jealous of the President, who was getting to do what he'd wanted to do all evening—hold her in his arms.

As if their entry onto the dance floor was the cue the rest of the guests had been waiting for, couples began filling the dance floor. The first waltz ended and the orchestra continued without missing a beat, smoothly gliding into another waltz. Every now and then Jack would catch a glimpse of Sam's blonde hair in the crowd and he wondered how soon he could take Madame Celeste back to their table when the situation was solved for him.

The President and Sam whirled up next to them, the other man stopped and tapped his shoulder. "May I?"

Jack ignored the sly look that passed between Madame Celeste and her husband. He simply said, "Of course," and passed the Prime Minister into her husband's arms.

Sam slipped into his arms; he breathed a sigh of relief and continued moving around the dance floor. The slim hand resting on his shoulder soon crept up to his nape and he pulled her closer. "How soon do you think we can leave?" he murmured in her ear. And then just because, he nuzzled her hair. God, she smelled so good and it had been so long. 

"Whenever you want," she whispered back. He shivered when her nails raked delicately through the short hairs on his neck. "But we should probably finish this dance." 

He almost stumbled when she bit his ear lobe and gently tugged, sending the blood singing through his body. He was really close to not caring what they did, just so long as he could keep touching her. It was just so sweet to hold her, to feel her breasts pressing against his chest, her legs brushing his as they moved. 

"What about Jonas and Teal'c?" Vague concern for their welfare warred with his need to get Sam back up to their room. 

"Over there." She turned her head, her hair brushing against his cheek and motioned with their clasped hands. "Teal'c anyway."

Sure enough, through the other dancers he could see Teal'c with the Minister of Agriculture. Jack wasn't even sure what the two of them were doing qualified as dancing, they appeared to merely be swaying together to the music at the far edge of the dance floor, both with dreamy expressions on their faces. _Dancing Kel'no'reem_ , he thought dryly. 

Jack looked around for Jonas then; it didn't take long to spot him, his blond hair sticking out like a neon light in the dark-haired crowd. Jack was only mildly envious when he saw the effortless way he glided across the dance floor with a young woman who was dressed in vivid purple. He had Sam in his arms; he could afford to be generous. 

"Who's Jonas with?"

She turned her head again, this time her cheek rested against his. He felt her smile. "You don't recognize Lanelle?"

Jack took a closer look as they whirled around the dance floor, studying the woman Sam had just identified as their liaison, the Riderian who had been their constant companion all week. "She looks...different." The rather serious and unassuming woman who'd seen to their needs didn't seem to match the brightly dressed and laughing woman Jonas held in his arms. And then remembering Sam's earlier encounter with Gilles, he asked, "She's not married, is she?"

"No." Sam chuckled softly. "He should be perfectly safe."

Satisfied, Jack tightened his arms around her and she nestled closer, resting her head on his shoulder. The two other members of SG-1 looked like they could manage on their own. Jack really didn't care—or want to know—what happened between now and their scheduled departure in the morning. Just as long as no one came down with any weird alien diseases....

When the waltz ended, instead of hustling her off the dance floor, he swayed with her, held close in his arms and waited for the next song to begin. The lights gradually dwindled and the orchestra started again. The music was slow and bluesy, an interesting contrast to the previous waltzes, but he liked it—and apparently so did the other couples. 

Sliding his hand lower on her back, he pressed firmly, urging her closer and started leisurely moving to the music with a simple two-step. She sighed softly, her breath teasing his neck, her hips shifting slowly against his as they moved around the floor. The other couples faded into the background; his senses were filled with the woman in his arms and the music that flowed all around them.

"So, is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" Sam smiled innocently at him. 

"What?" He nearly choked on the word, desperately fighting back the snort of laughter that threatened to escape and totally ruin the seductive atmosphere created by the sultry music and the low lights. And then on second thought, he was also insulted. He had hoped that his suave and debonair manner—and the fact that he was actually dancing, for crying out loud—would earn him beau coup points in the romance department.

Regaining his control, he glared at her. "It's my sidearm and I'm trying to be romantic, dammit!"

Sam's amused smirk faded; wonder and tender affection lighting her face. She stopped moving and Jack automatically stopped as well, oblivious to other dancers who carefully avoided them and the orchestra that continued to play. 

The hand she'd rested on his shoulder glided up to his face and she caressed his cheek. "I love you."

Desire flared immediately, burning hot in his dark eyes; the blood rushing through him and pooling in his groin. He had to get them out of here before he did something really stupid, like kiss her publicly in front of hundreds of witnesses. Resting his hands at her waist, he scanned the room, searching for the nearest exit. Dancing her quickly to the edge of the dance floor and towards the closest door, his arms dropped from around her and he grabbed her hand. 

Like the good officer that she was, she didn't protest when he practically dragged her through the dining room. The foyer was empty and Jack pulled her along behind him, not slowing down until they reached the bank of elevators. Once there, he punched the up button—several times.

"What's the hurry?" she dared to tease. Fortunately, the elevator door opened at that precise moment and was blessedly empty. 

Jack hustled her in, quickly pushing the button for their floor. "This," he growled. Placing firm hands on her waist and backing her up against the wall, he took her mouth in a ravenous kiss. Her arms looped around his neck and she opened her mouth immediately to his searching tongue. 

God, he was drowning in sensation and didn't know what made it all the more intense, the fact that it had been close to a week since he'd kissed her or the unexpectedly illicit thrill of kissing her in a moving elevator on an alien world. Fuck, for all his highly aroused senses knew, it could be the slight hint of oatmeal and sweet sugar he could still taste in her mouth. 

Pressing his hips firmly into her, he groaned when she shifted, allowing him to slide a leg between hers, his erection now nestled snugly against her. He groped along one cloth-covered thigh until he felt the edge of her tunic, working his hand up under the loose top. His eager fingers had just found the waistband of her trousers and the soft skin of her side when the elevator chimed and the door slid open. 

"Jack," she murmured huskily, "this is our floor." She evaded his mouth and he reluctantly let go of her. She grabbed his hand and he let her pull him out of the elevator, following her as she led him down the hallway to their suite. 

When they had first been shown their quarters, Jack had thought it a bit excessive, two suites connected by a communicating door so that each team member had their own bedroom. But as Sam punched in the key code for their door, he was glad now that the Riderians were such generous hosts. It made the sleeping arrangements so much easier.

His hands were at her waist as he followed her into the suite, the soft glow from one of the lamps in the living room telling him the maid had been in and turned down their beds. As soon as the door closed, Jack turned Sam and once more pressed her up against the wall, kissing her hungrily. He had just managed to get his hand under her tunic again when he felt her hand in his hair, tugging gently. 

"What?" he muttered. His fingers glided along her ribs and just brushed the soft swell of her breast.

"Bedroom," she gasped, her hand clenching almost painfully in his hair when his thumb brushed her nipple.

"Right," he murmured hoarsely against her lips. Pausing only long enough to lock the connecting door between the two suites, Jack at long last maneuvered Sam into the nearest bedroom and kicked the door shut with his foot. He reached for her again, but this time she stepped out of his reach and chuckled, the low husky sound sending additional tremors of arousal through him.

"Sam," he rumbled, something primal rising up in him and he reached for her again. He took a step toward her and was stopped by a slim handing pressing against his chest. His eyes narrowed and he debated simply overpowering her, but the determined—and provocative twinkle—in her baby blues aroused his curiosity. He smiled crookedly and let his arms drop back down to his side. 

Her lips curved in a satisfied smile and when she pressed more firmly against his chest, he backed up. When his legs hit the back of the bed, she didn't let up on the pressure and he sat down. 

"That's better," she purred. She didn't stop once he was seated, but kept urging him back onto the bed. First with just her hand and then by kneeling on the mattress, straddling his lap. Jack scooted further onto the mattress, kicking off the soft leather slippers that had been provided with his 'native costume', and when she gave one final push, he plopped back onto the pillows.

"Perfect," she crooned, kneeling on the bed next to him. "So, let's see," she murmured, running her palms lightly up his chest and then back down again, tugging lightly on the hem of his tunic. "Jack," she pouted, tugging a big harder on the soft fabric.

"Oh, right." He grinned up at her, raising his hips slightly and then his shoulders so she could pull the tunic off. The soft material slipped easily over his head and arms and when he opened his eyes, she had tossed it casually onto the chair next to the bed. She sat back, her eyes roving over his body, quickly followed by her hands.

"So, Jack," she commented idly. 

He shivered slightly, from the sultry sound of her voice and her light touch of her hands as she caressed his chest and abdomen. 

"What do we have here?" Her nails raked gently down his belly and then she tugged on the drawstring of his loose trousers. It came undone easily and she slipped her hands inside, running her fingers along the webbing of his holster. She chuckled softly and raised up slightly on her knees over him, tugging on the waistband of the trousers. He lifted his hips and she pulled the garment down over them.

"So," she drawled, blue eyes full of mischief meeting his. "You really are wearing your gun."  
Deft fingers unfastened the web belt, brushing against but never quite touching the bulge under his boxers. He moaned when she slid her hand down the inside of his thigh and he shifted, so that she could reach the fastenings easier. The webbing rubbed against the skin of his back when she pulled it off and held up the holster. 

"Hmm," she murmured, undoing the flap covering the gun and slipping it out of the holster. She tossed the holster in the same general direction she had tossed his tunic. He watched mesmerized, as her lovely fingers traced the barrel of his Beretta, gliding delicately along the dark metal. Jack wasn't sure why she was caressing his gun instead of him, but for some reason he found it oddly erotic 

"I don't know," she drawled. "Sure felt a lot..." her twinkling eyes met his, "...bigger, when we were dancing."

He snorted with laughter and then she dissolved in giggles too, leaning across him and setting the gun on the nightstand. The soft material of her tunic brushed against him, even that slight touch sending shivers of pleasure through him. He tried to pull her down into his arms, but she moved too swiftly and before he could do more than get in a brief caress along her spine, she was once more kneeling next to him.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Sam smiled guilelessly at him and he groaned, his hips arching toward her when she ran her index finger along the length of his engorged shaft, her touch electric, even through the soft cotton of his boxers. She looked like she was struggling to keep a straight face, while he was struggling not to toss her onto her back and slide his aching cock into her. 

"Two side arms?" she smirked, catching the waistband of his boxers and finally pulling them—and his trousers off. His penis sprang free and before the last of clothing hit the floor, she was cradling him in her hands. "Ah," she murmured seriously, stroking his rigid length, "this is what I remember from earlier."

"I'm glad you remember it, Sam. Because it's been over a fucking week since I've had anything to remember!"

"You want something to remember, Jack?" she asked huskily, the laughter in her eyes replaced with smoldering desire.

He nodded, even more blood rushing through his body to pool in his groin. "Sam," he protested, rising up on his elbows when she suddenly slipped off the bed.

She quickly leaned over him and placed a finger on his lips. "Shh...it’s okay, Jack." 

He wasn't sure it was okay, but he lay back down. And then almost too quickly—which surprised him, as starved as he was for her—she shed her clothing. Pulling the long top off first, the dark blue a vivid contrast to the pale skin of her belly and her breasts as they were exposed, her dusky rose nipples already tight. She gathered up his discarded clothes and carefully folded them, along with her tunic, laying them across a chair. Jack found he didn't mind too much, enjoying the grace of her movements and the soft sway of her breasts as she moved. 

He sighed softly when she turned back to face him and her smile turned indulgent. She casually stretched for him, trailing the fingers of her right hand down across her breastbone and belly in a provocative caress. "Like that, do you?" 

"Mmmhmm," he nodded. "Though I'd like it better if that were my hand and not yours."

"Patience, Jack, patience," she purred. And then it was like she was moving in slow motion, her slender fingers tugging at the drawstring of her trousers, the bow slowly coming undone. She pulled a bit at the waistband and shimmied, the loose trousers sliding down her slender legs and pooling at her feet. 

"Sam, what the hell..." his voice trailed off. He was both pleased and surprised when she placed her right foot on the bed and unfastened the leg holster from her calf, setting it and the small pistol in it on the nightstand next to his Beretta.

"Is that regulation?" he asked curiously.

"The armory sergeant modified it for me." She stood before him, hands on her hips. "You didn't think you were the only one who was armed, did you?"

"Well, I knew Teal'c was carrying."

"Jonas too." Much to his delight, she slipped her panties off then, kicking them in the direction of the chair. "I even think the President was armed." She crawled back onto the bed with him and winked. "Yours wasn't the only 'sidearm' I felt tonight," she drawled.

He knew his mouth dropped open with that, but he quickly snapped it shut. "Well, I hope Madame Celeste doesn't find out."

"I don't think Madame Celeste has anything to complain about," she murmured, her eyes once more brimming with amused indulgence. 

Before he could think of a snappy come back, she leaned down over him and his breath hissed out when he felt her tongue circle his belly button. She licked a wet path down his quivering belly, not stopping until she taken the head of his straining penis into her hot mouth. His head fell back onto the pillows with a low moan of ecstasy. God, he had missed this. Not this specifically, though it was damn good. But he had missed the quiet times when it was just the two of them, when they were just Jack and Sam and not Colonel and Major. 

One of her hands had joined her mouth on his penis, sliding hotly up and down his shaft while she continued to tease and suck the head. The combined caresses were mind-blowing and pushed him ever closer to the edge, but he didn't want to come anywhere but inside her hot body. Clinging to what was left of his self-control, Jack found the strength to grab Sam under her arms, hauling her up his body.

"What?" she demanded, her pupils widely dilated, her lips red and swollen. "I wasn't finished," she complained, sprawling across his chest. 

Capturing her face between his hands he kissed her deeply. It took a moment, but she finally relaxed against him. He murmured huskily, "That's okay, because I'm just getting started." He tightened his arms around her and he felt her smile against his lips before she tucked her head into the hollow of his shoulder. When he felt her hands clutch at his shoulders, he rolled them so that she was beneath him. 

Her long legs automatically wrapped around his hips; cradling him against her soft body. He lifted his head and looked down at her, her eyes were dark with arousal, her cheeks flushed and her hair mussed. She looked gorgeous and she was all his. 

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, leaning down to kiss her even as his hips moved against her. Her mouth opened immediately to his seeking tongue and he moaned into her mouth when one slim hand worked its way between their bodies; gently grasped him and guided him into her willing body. He slid easily through her slick folds and he gasped, breaking the kiss and raising his head so he could watch her. The look of wonder and love that filled her eyes whenever they made love never failed to humble him.

"I love you," he ground out, slowly pushing his way into her snug body. 

"Ditto," she panted, shifting her pelvis subtly beneath him. The slight movement had them both moaning when he sank further into her and with one final thrust, he was seated fully in her silky depths. 

He had some vague idea of taking it slow and drawing out the pleasure, but when her fingers dug into his ass and she clenched her strong internal muscles around him, he was almost lost. "God, Sam, don't," he gasped, his hips moving without his consent, pulling back and then once more thrusting deep.

"Don't what?" she moaned, tightening her thighs around him and doing that thing with her pelvic muscles again.

"That," he grunted.

"Why not?" Sam squeezed him again and his hips bucked against her, taking him even deeper.

"I want to go slow," he rumbled, barely able to form the sentence, but still somehow determined to draw their lovemaking out.

"Don't want slow," she whimpered, her blue eyes turbulent with desire.

"How do you want it?" he growled, threading the fingers of one hand through her short hair.

"Forever."

A low groan rumbled up from deep in his chest and he shifted, sliding his arms under her knees and leaning more heavily onto her, forcing her legs back and opening her fully to him. Jack tried to reassure her with a smile, but desire was riding him hard and all he could manage was a fierce grimace, but she seemed to understand. Gentle hands gripped his wrists, her lips curving in a languid smile. And then she did that thing with her pelvic muscles, caressing him with the most intimate of embraces and he finally released his rigid control.

 _Every time was like the first time,_ he thought hazily, as he thrust heavily into her. Each sensation, each sound, each smell magnified a hundred fold, the universe collapsing until the only thing left was the woman who made him complete. On rare occasions, when he actually thought about it, it worried him that he needed her so. But most of the time he merely accepted it, like he accepted that the sun always rose in the east—at least when they were on Earth.

"Jack."

Her husky plea registered above the sound of his harsh breathing and he knew immediately what she needed. Easing his right arm from under her leg, he probed expertly through her damp curls, effortlessly finding her clitoris. She gasped in approval, her pelvis rotating with his practiced touch. Jack gritted his teeth, fighting the release that her insistent movements threatened, determined now to see to her pleasure before his. But she was so incredibly responsive to him and he knew just how to touch her that it wasn't long before she was sobbing his name with each gasping breath. 

His eyes narrowed and with fierce pride he watched her fall apart in his arms, her body trembling helplessly against him. The ecstasy that filled her face called to him on a primal level and when she opened dazed blue eyes, the love shining out of them undid him. He rode her hard; strong hands gripping her hips as he pounded heavily into her willing body. The release that had been smoldering within him burst into flames and Jack surrendered to his lover, following her into rapture.

Still trembling in the powerful aftermath of his orgasm, Jack collapsed in a boneless heap on the woman beneath him. He was only dimly aware of her soft chuckle, but managed a satisfied smile when he felt her fingers stroking tenderly through his hair. He somehow managed to shift onto his side next to her and nestled closer, sighing happily when she shifted with him, keeping him in her arms and continuing her soothing caresses.

"Happy?"

"Mmmhmm," he murmured, already feeling the pull of sleep. 

"Better than ambrosia?"

"I don't know, Sam," he said as casually as he could. "I guess it just depends on what you're hungry for—Hey!" he yelped, when she pinched his ear.

"Jack O'Neill, if you're insinuating that oatmeal is better than sex with me—"

Jack raised himself up over her and grinned down at her. "You're beautiful when you're angry," he murmured.

"Don't try to change the subject," she retorted, but ruined the affect by grinning. 

"I'm not," he reassured her. "You're the best thing to happen to me in a very long time." Her smile softened into that one that always made his stomach turn somersaults. He leaned down and brushed her lips with his. "Even better than oatmeal with ten different toppings."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was almost dawn when Jonas staggered wearily off the elevator and started down the hallway to his and Teal'c's suite. He had just punched in his key code for the third time when he heard the elevator ding. Glancing down the hall, he saw Teal'c approaching.

"Productive evening?" he asked, finally getting the green light that signaled he'd entered the code correctly. He'd seen Teal'c and the Minister of Agriculture leave not long after the Colonel and Major Carter had done their disappearing act. Teal'c smiled benignly and Jonas grinned, opening the door and gesturing for Teal'c to enter. 

"Regina is a most agreeable hostess." Teal'c intoned gravely. "Did you find Lanelle to be agreeable?"

Jonas paused, the door swinging shut behind him, not sure if this was one of Teal'c's 'jokes'. 

Teal'c raised his eyebrow. "You have not been with Lanelle since you left the festivities?" 

"Ah, no...I mean, yes, I've been with Lanelle." He finally gave up and smiled broadly at Teal'c. "And yes," he agreed, "she is a most agreeable hostess." 

Stepping further into the sitting room, Jonas stopped at the door connecting their suite to the one housing the Colonel and Sam. His hand hovered over the doorknob. "So, what do you think, Teal'c?"

"If you are referring to our wager, then I believe that mine still stands."

"Well, now, I would say that I won my bet. Colonel O'Neill did dance at the banquet."

Teal'c inclined his head. "You are correct, Jonas Quinn. I was mistaken in thinking that O'Neill would not participate in the festivities. However, I believe if you try the door, you will find it locked."

Jonas' hand closed over the doorknob and he carefully turned it...with no results. He tried a little harder, but the door was locked tight. "So, do you really think they?" Jonas' voice trailed off when he looked over at Teal'c, a smug expression on the other man's face. _Score one for Teal'c_ , he thought agreeably. 

"Right," Jonas said, releasing the doorknob. "Guess we weren't the only ones to get lucky tonight, eh, Teal'c?"

"Indeed." 

THE END


End file.
